


Awareness

by Sarcasticmissy



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticmissy/pseuds/Sarcasticmissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe knows he's deceiving himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awareness

He contacts the agency again three months after Morgan’s murder and asks for a man for the night.

The man who turns up looks disconcertingly like Kent and for a brief second, he thinks he’s been found out, that it’s Kent in the doorway and there’s the tiniest flare of anticipation and desire before Joe firmly quashes it, logic taking over, logic telling him it could not be Kent and he would not want him here regardless, the lie barely registering in Joe’s head.

He brings the man in, politely asking his name, realising that any answer given would be false but even now, even in this situation, he cannot be any way other than how he is. The man provides a name but it’s forgotten as soon as it is given and the man had clearly seen Joe’s face at the door as he states he can be called whatever Joe wants to call him. Joe doesn’t answer him, he just leads him into the bedroom and sets about undressing, however the man doesn’t stop asking, doesn’t stop telling him that any name, any nickname, anything is ok by him, whatever Joe wants to call him, wants to do to him. Joe closes his eyes momentarily, trying so hard to fight against it but loses and quietly tells him the name he will call him. He opens his eyes again and it’s Emerson in front of him.

They tumble to the bed and Joe takes control, hands moving over hard planes of body, legs and arms and lips fitting together. Joe can’t help but press into Emerson’s fingers, feeling so touch deprived, craving this now he has it, wanting more, wanting Emerson to leave impressions, knowledge that he’s been there that will linger on Joe for days. His own hand trace the line down Emerson’s stomach, big enough to stroke fingertips along his sides, curling around and gripping. Soon Joe cannot hold back and he asks to fuck Emerson, who agrees eagerly, preparing himself with such practice and pulling Joe back down, guiding him in. He keeps Emerson on his back, he wants to watch him as he falls, as Joe pushes in further and harder, rhythm taking over. Joe rests one hand besides Emerson’s head, fingers tangling with Emerson’s hair as he gets close, tightening as he comes, Emerson pulsing around him, Emerson’s name on his lips. He closes his eyes and once he opens them again, awareness comes rushing back and as he looks down at the man below him, he remembers this isn’t what he thought, this is a stranger, someone he is to pay for services rendered, not Emerson, not even close.

He pays, he shows the man out, he cleans the sheets and room and himself and then sits, edge of the bed digging in when bruises will soon bloom, and wonders what to do now, now something has broken inside him.


End file.
